Atlas
by Knuckles3000
Summary: Contains spoilers. Three wizards, all outcasts in their own rights, must create an army suitable to take down the New Lich King. R
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: None of this product is owned by Me. Characters including but not limited to Illidian, Arthas, Jaina, the Lich King, Thrall, so fourth and so on. All rights reserved.  
  
Note: This fiction was written before the patch was released, so the after effects of the last two orc campaigns are not included. The fic will be written as if Jaina and Thrall had made piece, and both the half orc half ogre and the troll witch hunter are still alive.  
  
Several hours after the battle between Illidan and Arthas came to a sorrowful conclusion.  
  
Inching his way across the frozen wastes, the demon hunter grasped for survival. Leaving a trail of blood behind as he crawled his way away from the Frozen Throne, trying to find a suitable place to tear open a portal home. His dark magics had kept him alive so far, but he needed treatment from his elven priests lest he should die in the demonic frost.  
  
After the battle, the undead ceased their assault. As if drawn to a new master, they slowly climbed around the steps of the passionless hills of the lich king. Everything grew silent the moment the dark knight Arthas and the lich king Ner'zhul became a single living fiend. The allowance of the prince's physical form and Ner'zhul's psychic powers and control over the undead obviously overwhelmed the latter, making them both stunned and very tired for the time being. This allowed the perfect opportunity for the demon hunter to escape.  
  
Stopping short of a relatively small mountain, he forced himself up. After a brief chanting and harnessing of chaotic magic, Illidan tore open a portal. This would most certainly lead him to the refuge of his companions, or at least he was to hope. He plunged into the swirling blue gate, praying to any god that payed heed to his wishes.  
  
Okay, that was fun! Anyway, the first chapter was very short, but it's late out here and I don't want to put this off any longer. On a side note, Illidan's survival is supposedly concrete in the real War Craft world. The source I got this information from is quite reliable, so we can possibly look forward to him still being alive by the next WarCraft 


	2. Less the pleasant

After the recent peace between the orcs and humans of the newly built western cities, their was much free time on the hands of the people. Aside from preparing for once the undead threat would arrive at their door step, the people also mourned for the lost. The death of the King and the great heroes Uther and the Admiral, had been previously wept for (of course, some of the living envied them), but the death of Antondias was mourned for more so, as it was their leader's master.  
  
After much regretful weeping and praying to the Holy Father, the masses slowly left to their homes and worked. Jaina sat loyally by the tomb of her master (which was, of course, lacking of his body), sobbing deeply for her beloved teacher. The tomb was decorated appropriately with elven writing, and a few simple runes carved by the wizard herself. The beautifully decorated tomb looked quite queer in the desolate surroundings of the lands.  
  
The plains of the west, while providing shelter for the broken race of man and orc alike, was still far from their original country. The king would sit in his throne, surrounded by faithful councilmen, giving order to where there was chaos. And Arthas, the paladin of light, would stride forward to catch the king in his hour of death. The prince would call pray to the Holy Father over his beloved father's death, and then assume his rightful command over his people and rule supreme over all the races in the land. But both Jaina and the people had become sick of fairy tales, the times that could have been.  
  
Frostmourne and the lich king would not allow such a thing. With a lust of power feeding at his heart and insanity corrupting his mind, Arthas drove the demonic sword into the heart of his father, the heart of his kingdom. He became what he had hoped to defeat, and drove himself further and further away from his people until the point where they became his enemy. So many had died because Arthas hungered power, how many more would suffer the same fate?  
  
Of course, Jaina had little time to think, she very seldom did. A stalker was approaching; she had felt him time and time again. It was a mage, of course, and a powerful one at that. He had come shortly after the peace between man and orc, Jaina and Thrall, had been set in stone. He had followed her, cloaked in artificial shadows when he found it appropriate. She had felt him first during her meeting with an orc-ogre crossbreed, a friend of Thrall. She had felt him again once she met with Thrall himself to discuss the peace. And she felt his presence again while she wept and mourned publicly for her now dead master. She knew he was there, but he still managed to hide his identity from her.  
  
This time it was different. He had come here for a purpose, a time in which he had been waiting for her to so boldly to cross a line. After waiting for the mourners to make their leave, he had approached her slowly, taking minutes to make a single step. This continued to aggravate her, as his presence was both powerful, like Medhiv's, and infuriating, like that of a high elves. He was now standing on the other side of Antondias' great tomb. The young wizard could see where the rifts in magic from where he was hidden. After he left Jaina in a few (uncomfortable) minutes of anticipation, he revealed himself to her.  
  
His form was great. His shoulders broad, and his hair a long, deep black. He was clothed in leather armor that bore the stitching of a hippogriff. In his sheath he held a fine noble rapier, and in his right hand was a mighty wizard's staff. His expression was the mixture of a grieving student and a smug master. Jaina knew him well, though his presence was by no means comforting.  
  
"So you finally show your face you slimy, deluded bastard. After all these years you have the spine to waltz up and see your master. To bad he has fallen, and has been dead for quite some months now." Jaina spoke bitterly.  
  
The wizard ignored her words and marched around the tomb, his eyes never leaving Jaina's. "Quite an impressive speech you gave today." He spoke smugly with equal bitterness. "Though it was nothing more then a web of lies. You spoke of being the greatest student of the greatest of mages, yet you are far from it."  
  
"I was his greatest student." Jaina hissed, bother her eyes and staff burning with a fiery rage. "Don't bother, Jaina dear." The wizard yawned dully, eyeing the staff. "I have proven time and time again my superiority over you, now would be little different."  
  
"What is it you want here?" Jaina asked. "What was so important that you had to return after your years of betrayal to your master, me, and your home town?"  
  
"Well, quite frankly, I have little else to return to. After taking a short leave, I returned to find my entire army of rouges taken from me and under the control of some new cult. The Forsaken, they call themselves now, or something of the like. I had no choice but to eliminate a select few I never particularly liked and set my way out here." The wizard replied glumly.  
  
"What is there for you here? Surely the laws of magic which we are shaping in this new land have no meaning to you." Jaina murmured. Kindness was already returning to her voice, despite her hatred for her former pupil."  
  
"Within every city, no matter how great, there is uprising. It is inevitability. I play to take advantage of it once it comes by and gather together another force of bandits. We shall become the scourge of the west, practicing magic-craft and swordsmanship alike without the burdens of laws." He spoke dreamily.  
  
"Sounds much like your previous paradise in are old lands, Farren. I hardly doubt master would approve, though." Jaina sighed.  
  
"He was never one to stifle my imagination." Farren laughed.  
  
"I'm glad, at the very least," Jaina sighed, "that we were able to part as master would have desired us to."  
  
"I think we should refer to him from now on as Antondias. If we started bowing down and calling the dead our master, why, we'd be no better then prince Arthas."  
  
Jaina turned immediately on him, planning to destroy him for making such a foul statement. He was already gone, however, a small chuckle left blowing in the wind. Chapter 2 is complete. To the select few of you who read or will read this fic I hope you enjoy it. I'm trying desperately to stay as close to the story as possible, but it's quite hard. 


End file.
